Passenger
by SearchingForMercury
Summary: Arthur finds himself stuck in a car with Alfred, traveling God knows where. But he's okay with it, sure. Al will turn the car around, surely. As the sun sets, however, Arthur becomes frantic. He tells Al to stop, turn the car around, go back to school. Al says no. (Originally posted on AO3. For thatsrightdollface for her crazy awesome PruAus story)
1. Prologue

Fields were whirling by at an alarming rate, as was the sun with its sinking, and Arthur couldn't decide which was worse. On one hand he had next to nothing to look at and on the other, night was coming while he was several miles away from where he ought to be. He glanced over at his driving companion. Al's expression showed no signs of guilt or possibly, even, a mental debate. He looked relaxed, Arthur would say, and this troubled him even more.

Why had he gotten in the blasted car to begin with? A better question might be why Al had let him. When one was going off on a grand adventure of self-understanding or whatever, usually it was alone, right? That _was_ what Al wanted to do, probably - find himself. Where, Arthur had no idea. It probably wouldn't be among some cut-back, muddy fields.

If Arthur knew how to drive, he would have hatched a brilliant plan to commandeer the car at the next gas station. It would have been spectacular - Al at the tank, eyes focused on the sale price, as he pulled the keys from the ignition. Al would be at his mercy.

Okay, so probably not. The guy was taller, with broad shoulders, and heftier. He could probably pin Arthur to the hood, twist his arm a little, and Arthur would have to give. What a jackass.

Arthur shook his head a little and Al glanced at him.

"You alright there?" he asked.

Arthur snorted. Oh so elegant. "When have I ever been alright?" he asked. "I've told you about a million times to turn this car around, yet you refuse to listen!"

"Twenty-two times - I've been listening," Al said and grinned all cheeky-like.

"Then why aren't we headed back to campus?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. "This does _not_ look like anywhere close to the Springs. Or Denver. Or anywhere I know of in Colorado."

Al snickered, bringing one hand to his mouth. "Man, you need to get out more often. Pretty much half of Colorado is this - fields and shit. Farms," he replied.

Arthur could feel his cheeks warm up with the inevitable Blush of Shame. He should have known that. It wasn't like he hadn't done any research into where he wanted to study abroad. The hours he had spent in front of the computer, looking up schools and locations. Somewhere interesting, scenic. So sure, he hadn't paid all that much attention to the stuff that wasn't pretty - it still should have made some sort of impression.

Arthur groaned and had half the mind to throw a tantrum - legs and arms flying as he yelled at Al to turn the blasted car around. "Can we _please_ turn around?" he whined, hating himself for doing so. And for using the word 'please.'

A corner of Alfred's mouth turned upwards. "No."


	2. Chapter 1: Get Into the Car

Get Into the Car

The little houses in downtown Colorado Springs reminded Arthur of England. He wasn't entirely sure why, as he came from London, but they did. Perhaps it was the way they varied, how no two were alike. Maybe it was how close they were or the colors they were painted; how most of them looked like they came straight from a fairytale. Or the Victorian Era.

It was true - he thought Manitou Springs looked most like Europe and he would often find someone to travel there with him when he ever felt homesick, but he never walked down one of those streets without thinking of how he would like to see what it's like to live in one of those houses. Would the floor creak? Would he hear the traffic through the walls? It all seemed very artsy. To be an art student living there, maybe.

A great setting for a story, he often thought. He wasn't, strictly speaking, an art major. English was more his beat, with Creative Writing as a minor. But writing _was_ an art - outlines were sketches, plots were maps. Literature that built up worlds so complex, the reader could fall into a story without even realizing it; elaborate paintings one could ponder for a lifetime.

Fall was beginning to set in, too, and while Arthur had been warned many times that fall was almost nonexistent in Colorado, he could think of nowhere else that had trees such as these. There were the yellow aspen leaves, with their white bark, set against dark evergreens. Oranges were so much brighter, with leaves fluttering down to lay across the sidewalk. He also kept getting told it was much prettier in the summer, when everything was in full bloom, but for some reason he kind of doubted that.

He liked autumn. He liked hearing the crunch of the leaves under his foot. He liked the feeling of festivities lurking nearby, around the corner. Pumpkins were being stocked in supermarkets. Brown, cartoon turkeys stared at him from the decorations set up in Wal-Mart. Halloween costumes were filling the shelves. Yes, it was definitely his favorite season.

Arthur hunched his shoulders when a gust of wind came at him. He was beginning to understand why most people carried extra jackets with them - "Just in case," they said. At least he was prepared for winter. Probably. There was a lot of talk about weather here and since he was an exchange student, he got all the warnings. All of them.

In any case, he was happy when he arrived at the dorms. Warm air tucked in around him once the door swung shut. Whiteboards hung on nearly every door, snippets of conversation written out in different colors. Some even had expressions to go with them. His door was no exception, but that was due to his roommate. Francis's friends had each donned a particular color for their remarks.

'Fuck the police' was written in red, all caps. A smiley face was drawn out in green.

Charming.

They were sprawled out over the floor playing a video game when he walked in. Gilbert was on his back, head bent at what looked like an uncomfortable angle, as he mashed buttons on his controller. Francis looked almost amused and bemused at the screen and Antonio was talking.

"I think we should spray-paint it. Make it look like real blood," he said, certain words catching his Spanish accent more so than others. His easy smile was what attracted people to him, Arthur theorized. It was so genuine - people couldn't help but want to trust him. "Deep red. Build it up so it looks more 3D."

Arthur set his bag down under his loft bed, by his desk, and took a seat. Might as well get through some of the homework. Not like his grades would hurt if he didn't - they were always steady, perched at the top of the grading scale. Right where his parents liked them to be.

"Hmm, _non_, I think we should focus on our costumes," Francis replied. "We need to look convincing."

There was a sudden stream of what sounded like German swear words and Gilbert jumped to his feet. "Ha! In your faces!" he crowed. So maybe he hadn't been swearing. Gilbert shook his hips and moved his arms in what Arthur could only guess was supposed to be a victory dance.

"Can we play Mario Kart?" Antonio whined.

"Sure, but I'm still going to beat you there," Gilbert replied, smug.

"I only ever race against Frankie anyways."

"Francis," Francis corrected. His friends didn't acknowledge this.

They were all exchange students. Arthur had a feeling the school liked to put them all in one end of the dorm, to keep things tidy. Francis, ironically, was from France. Arthur wasn't sure if he knew the other two before coming to the school - they seemed awfully close for having just met a month or so ago.

* * *

Arthur was more than halfway through his analytical essay, picking apart _Medea_ as if he hadn't done so before, when there was a knock on the door. It shook him out of his stupor, the one he got into when he wanted to ignore his roommate and just..._get in the zone_, as he had heard it put before.

Francis flicked his long blonde hair over his shoulder and sighed. "It's always open, you know," he called out.

"No it bloody well isn't," Arthur hissed. It _better_ not be. He always locked the door at night. But it was true that some of Francis's culinary classes ran later than Arthur wanted to stay up.

Francis waved a hand at him, as if to shush him, while the door opened. Three heads turned to see who it was. In walked Alfred and his younger cousin, Matthew. They looked so much alike, people were often confused when they found out the two had different last names.

"Awesome!" Gilbert shouted and launched himself up from the ground. "You can both play with us! I need more of a challenge!"

Al chuckled at this, glancing at Arthur on his way to the TV. "Sure thing, so long as you don't cry in German when I've thoroughly beaten your ass," he said.

Gilbert made a noise that sounded a lot like the letter F. "Germans don't cry," he said. Instead of taking his previous position on the floor, he settled down with his legs crossed under him, back straight.

Antonio handed Al his controller.

"It's good to see you aren't sick," Arthur said, layering his voice in condescension.

Al turned to look at him while Gilbert was choosing options from the start screen. "What?" he asked.

"You weren't there," Arthur replied. "In class."

"Oh," Al said and laughed, almost nervous sounding. "Yeah, no, I'm not sick. Just, uh, didn't really feel like going, you know?"

"Mm."

This wasn't the first time Al had skipped class. The only reason Arthur noticed, though, was because Al often chose him for group activities. The rest of the class had their usual partners, so when Al missed a class, Arthur was usually shoved into another group by the teacher. Or paired with the teacher. It had been one of those days.

It was kind of odd, having him in his room. The only time he ever really saw him _was_ in class. Gilbert and Antonio shared a room, though, so maybe they all hung out there. Or other places. Did Al have any other friends? Probably, he seemed the friendly, popular type. Hm.

Arthur tried turning his mind back to _Medea_. If it were up to him, he would have just scribbled JASON IS A DOUCHE on a sheet of paper to turn in to the teacher. That about summed up his entire essay. Instead, that was his title. For the time being. He'd change it before actually turning it in, of course.

The laughing and mumbled words from the others began fading, becoming less prominent in his mind. Instead, Medea took front stage, her eyes sharp. The lifeless bodies of her children gathered a little too tightly in her arms. Yes. Arthur began to write once more.

* * *

"Okay, last round," Gilbert announced. These words shot through Arthur's daze, making him feel like he had just taken a fall in a dream. Gilbert only glanced at him. "I've got homework to do later."

Francis nodded and said something in French. Arthur hated when he did that. "I've got a masterpiece to create," he said.

"After my team beats you in this game," Gilbert said and handed him Matthew's controller. "Hey Mattie, turn on the light?"

The room hadn't seemed so dark until the flip was switched and Arthur was rubbing his eyes. Without realizing it, his essay had reached nearly eight full pages, which exceeded the minimum by about five. It was time to wrap it up.

When the end music played, Antonio leaned back against the wall. "I think that's all for me," he said.

"Aw man, really?" Al said. "That round barely even lasted long enough!"

Gilbert was nodding. "True facts," he said and smirked, like he was enjoying some sort of joke. "But I'm kinda tired of playing this shit."

Antonio looked up. "_Hey_-"

"I mean, not shit," Gilbert said. "Best shit. _That_ sort of shit."

Antonio did not look impressed.

Al sighed and lost a bit of his posture. Not that he had any to begin with. "I've got an essay due tomorrow," he mumbled.

Arthur almost snickered. "Yes, that I'm almost finished writing," he wanted to say. Instead, he smirked at his screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Francis look in his direction.

The silence that hung heavy in the air was bust when Gilbert suggested they watch a movie instead. Francis complained about his masterpiece while the others argued over what to watch.

"Have you guys seen _The A-Team_?" Matthew asked.

Everyone except Al and Arthur turned to stare at him with buggy looking eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, ending with a nervous laugh.

In the end, however, when they came to the realization that one of them would have to retrieve the movie from another room - and nobody wanted to do that, there were far too many blankets on the floor - they settled on _Monty Python_ instead.

Arthur could only stand for so much of that movie. While he wouldn't say he entirely disliked it, there was a small number of times someone could tell him his mother was a hamster before he lost his cool. His essay was mostly finished, anyways.

It was a month too early for the movie _he_ chose to watch, with his headphones plugged in and his back to the television. He made a mental note to watch _V for Vendetta_ closer to the actual time. Nothing like the idea of blowing up parliament to take his mind off of idiot roommates and their idiot friends.

The lights were turned off once again by Matthew.

* * *

When Al stood up and left, Arthur pulled his headphones out of his ears. He hadn't caught what was said, but it struck him as odd. Al had been the one eager to stay - Arthur was sure the others had agreed on a movie _for _him, to cater to his procrastination. Perhaps he knew and that's why he decided to go? He didn't really seem the type to look too deep into things, though.

Then again, he _was_ in his literature class.

Before he even stood up, Arthur was mentally smacking himself in the face for being such a busybody. The others were still watching the movie. The famous line, "She turned me into a newt!" was spoken, but the door shut behind him before it could be finished.

Al wasn't in the hall. That wasn't terribly surprising, as his room wasn't far from theirs. It was decorated mostly with sports memorabilia and two flags crossed in the middle, the sticks taped to the door - American and Canadian. If anyone ever had the deep desire to, oh, say, make Al their target for intense bullying, it wouldn't be that difficult.

Arthur hesitated with his arm up, ready to knock. What was he even doing? Was he there to tell him to come to class for once? To tell him he was lucky for having friends who were willing to watch stupid movies with him?

The door swung open.

"Eh," Arthur somehow let out.

Alfred's eyebrows rose up for a moment. "Hey there, Artie. Can I...help ya with something?" He shifted his weight onto one leg and looked down at him. Expectant.

"I, uh, um."

Apparently Al was one of those few people who could raise one eyebrow. "Right, so, if you figure it out, come find me. Or I guess...never mind," he said. It was then when Arthur noticed he had a backpack slung over one shoulder. "So, uh, see you around. Yeah."

He made a move forward and Arthur instantly got out of his way. He wasn't going back to the room, however. While Arthur didn't know _much_ about him, he did know _some_ things. One of which was how the guy had a part time job he recently quit and all mid afternoon classes. Where on earth could he be headed?

So Arthur made like Sherlock and went after him. Only he was incredibly less stealthy and apparently less observant than he thought, for after they had gone down the stairs, Al turned towards him.

"Why are you following me?" he asked.

Arthur searched for words, for an answer, _anything_. "Who said I was following you?"

Nailed it.

Al sighed. "Just go back already," he said.

Arthur stood a little straighter. "I just needed to get food," he said, trying to form a believable expression of This is the Truth. "Following you, ha."

Al didn't say anything, but Arthur could tell he didn't buy it for a moment. Yet when Al walked the few feet to the door and out into the windy evening, he went after him. Something just didn't feel right and he knew it wouldn't stop bothering him until he figured it out.

"You're still following me." Al's voice was loud in the empty parking lot. "I could sue."

"Sue me for what? For...wanting to get dinner?" he asked.

They reached Al's car - a red Nissan Pathfinder, according to the car - and he gave Arthur a pointed look. It either said "explain" or "check out my ride." Arthur chose the latter.

"This looks rather big for one person," he said.

All the locks clicked inside when Al pushed a button on his car remote. If that's what those were called. "I like to go hiking," he said and pulled open one of the doors. His backpack went tumbling across the back seat. "Anyways, nice chatting with you, little British guy, but I've got to go."

"I have a name," Arthur huffed.

Alfred grinned. "I know."

"Then _use_ it."

He pretended to think. "Nah," he said and got in the car.

Arthur fumbled with the handle and, against his better judgment, hopped in with him. There wasn't a whole lot of silence, in retrospect, but he could feel a pounding in his ears and his fingers tapped against a twitchy leg. No, this wasn't unusual at all.

"What are you doing?" Al asked.

"It's cold," Arthur stated. It was, though. He didn't think he was going to need a jacket when he left his room. He knew Alfred was staring at him, but he refused to look his way. There really wasn't much else his brain was providing him in terms of conversation.

Another sigh. "Well alright," Al said and started the car.


	3. Chapter 2: Stars that Shine So Bright

Stars that Shine So Bright

It really _was_ his fault. For getting in the car, for not leaving Al alone. That didn't mean that Al could just keep going, though. This was technically kidnapping, right? Maybe he could tell someone at a gas station they would inevitably have to visit. Tell them this madman had taken off without warning, that Arthur was just a scared study-abroad student with no clue as how to get home. Then the police would come and take them _both_ back.

But that was kind of mean, even from Arthur's perspective. Al was a decent guy, probably. He didn't really deserve to be arrested for kidnapping. Would they mark that on his record, he wondered, if the charges were dropped? If Arthur told them it was really a mistake, that it had been a joke. Would he get in trouble with the police? Oh God, he hoped not. That would be terrible. _Hey mum, yeah, sorry, could you come rescue me? The American coppers don't really react well to humor._

"You're awfully quiet," Al said, pulling Arthur from his fantasy of what it might be like to live behind bars.

"Well, you're obviously not turning the car around," Arthur replied, pulling his already crossed arms closer to his chest and snuggling down in his seat. "So why bother."

Al glanced at him several times before reaching over to pat him on the head. Arthur swatted his hand away and gave him the biggest scowl he could muster. He had been told he looked scary when angry, that his dark eyebrows shadowed his eyes or something. Francis got on his nerves a lot.

But Al just laughed. "Hey now," he said. "You looked at me. Glad to know you aren't gonna be a pissy little shit the whole ride."

Arthur wanted to tilt his head back and groan - why did he have the luck of that one fish from _Finding Nemo_? His travel companion was slowly rising to the very alarming Francis-like level. "How long is this ride going to be, anyways?" he asked.

Al just sort of shrugged with a little smile on his face. The image of Arthur leaning over to throttle him passed through his mind for a split second. Nah. That wasn't worth it.

He settled for looking out the window instead. Unfortunately for him, the scenery was rather bland, unexciting. The land had flattened out, a terrible comparison to the hills near the Springs, rising up with dark green trees and the scratchy looking brown shrubs. The few trees they passed had almost all lost their leaves, their pretty golden leaves.

It was always such a shame the world became this huge, frozen, sleeping _thing_ the same time every year. People waited patiently, bundled up in jumpers as they peered through glass windows, looking for any sign of the coming spring - when the world would wake up again. Sometimes it would trick people, though, and wake only for a little bit. Damn the world.

Fields stretched out longer than he could see, occasionally broken by a large metal tub or uneven fence. Wooden posts of all sorts of sizes were linked by barbed wire. Sometimes he saw a cow, but not often. The sun was setting behind the mountains, but those were behind them so he couldn't even admire the sunset.

Sunsets in Colorado were by far the best he'd seen anywhere. The sky was enormous - one could see the clouds taking different forms, billowing up or out, and the color behind them was usually a deep, intense blue. So when the sun sank, it sent colors streaming out across the blue and the clouds, painting it with reds and oranges and in between colors he had never even thought of. He often sent pictures to his parents or brought his laptop outside with him for them to see on the webcam. It wasn't the same, though.

And now he was stuck going in the opposite direction of those mountains, of that beauty he had spent forever on the internet trying to obtain. The sky could hardly even be seen, now. Just lots of grey clouds, dim light, and the metal frames of the car.

"Hey Artie, could you get my backpack from the backseat?" Al asked.

"Why?" Arthur asked, feeling very sullen. He didn't move.

"I want something from it," Al said and glanced at him. "Please."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but did what was asked of him. Al just wanted his iPod plugged in to his radio and set on shuffle. This didn't really make much sense, however, because Al started skipping every song that started playing.

"Looking for something in particular?" Arthur asked. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do at this point. It seemed like he wanted to be engaging, interested, when his tone clearly said otherwise.

"No-sort of," Al said, eyes flitting back and forth from the road to what his hand was doing.

Whatever. Arthur settled back to looking out the window, though the constant start and stops of songs made thinking a little more difficult. It would be absolutely dark, soon. Dark to the point where even the sun hiding behind the mountains couldn't give you the impression of light, where you couldn't even see the fuzzy details. And then what? Would they stop at a hotel, motel, whatever came along? Because from his perspective, there sure weren't going to be any coming up soon.

Electronic music filled the car - a keyboard? - and a girl's sugar coated voice sprang up. It wasn't in any language Arthur knew, but Al started singing along. It became obvious he was only mimicking the sounds rather than words, mumbling along to most of it, but becoming strong at the chorus. But that was mostly just "Pon pon pon's."

Al turned and grinned at him when there were breaks in the lyrics, swaying his shoulders along to the claps or keyboard music. Other times he would nod his head, like he was trying to create a softer form of headbanging.

Arthur just stared.

Eventually the song had to end and Arthur was left with many more questions than he had the guts to ask. Really, the most prominent word bouncing in his head was "what," but Al just smiled at him and started searching for a new song.

"I have a Japanese friend," Al said after a little while. Al hadn't looked his way, but Arthur would bet it was his staring that did it, that made him explain even just a little bit. "We needed something happy sounding."

Arthur turned back to the steadily dimming scenery flying past. He wondered if it would have looked more interesting in the summer. Somehow, he doubted that. Maybe a little more full, a little more color, but it would have all still been the same nothingness - nothing but fields. Fields of food, of produce. Fields you could not just take a walk in.

If not fields, it would be the natural grasses that blended in with the dirt, making everything look dusty and colorless, like a photograph that had the saturation drained out of it. Cattle would roam, maybe antelope. Arthur wasn't sure if antelope could walk about on personal property, actually. He had read that some deer would come into yards and eat from gardens, but he hadn't read about the antelope.

A nice enough melody began playing and Alfred snickered, causing Arthur to turn around without thinking. He couldn't tell what was so funny, though. Even when the singing started, he couldn't understand - and the voice was terrible.

Al began singing along, also mimicking the scratchy tone. He hadn't started at the beginning, when the singer sang about being drunk - and Arthur believed him, he _sounded_ drunk - but rather singing out, "_Well, maybe a little rough around the edges, or inside a little hollow - I get faced with some things, sometimes, that are so hard to swallow -_ _HEY_!" He sang all out, belting out the lyrics with absolutely no shame.

And then it all made sense.

"_I was born a rebel_-"

The goddamn song was about rebellion and that's exactly what Alfred was doing - being rebellious and driving and that foot on the pedal line and _Arthur wanted to punch that grin off his face_. So he did the next best thing. He unplugged the iPod.

"Hey!" Al whined.

"You don't sing very well," Arthur stated. That was kind of a lie. Al wasn't great, but he wasn't terrible. He kept close to the tone and was obviously trying to not only follow the sound of the music, but the singer's voice and tone as well.

Al twisted his mouth up in something that was almost a pout, but probably closer to annoyance. Apparently he could only take the sound of driving for only so long, for he smacked at his radio a few times and something fast and upbeat covered it up.

While Arthur was comfortable with letting everything slip into silence and thought, Alfred wasn't quite ready.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because I'm taking a survey to determine how many people are hungry at seven o'clock," Al replied. He gave him a very pointed stare before he had to look back at the road.

"I suppose," Arthur said, drawing his words out as if he were suspicious. Really, the little people inside his head were at work, plotting out scenarios, ideas.

Al glanced at him. "You suppose you're hungry?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, do you have a problem with that?" he replied.

"Nah, man, just wondering how you can't tell if you're running on empty or not. I _always_ know," Al said and scratched at his blonde hair. "Your stomach starts whining - _feed me!_ - it says. Or it gets all grumbly and low and it's just like - _feed me NOW. _- and you just have to shut it up before people start starin' at'cha funny. Kinda like what you're doing now."

Arthur shook his head, forcing his eyes to look ahead at the road. "I'd like to eat, thank you," he said. He had felt his wallet sitting in his back pocket a long while ago, to which he thanked God and Zeus and anybody else up there for. He couldn't say the same for his phone, however, and he was planning on checking for it whenever they stopped. He had the dreadful suspicion it was still sitting next to his computer, that he hadn't grabbed it out of habit. To be fair, he didn't think he would be gone all that long.

They drove past a sign that promised food and gas at the next exit but, to Arthur's dismay, no hotel. Alfred pulled the car from its straight path and slowed down - it was somewhat of an odd feeling after driving at a consistent speed for so long. The bright, electric lighting had Arthur rubbing at his eyes - he felt like he had just woken up.

"Al_riiiiight_," Al said as he pulled up into the parking lot. "Thank you, America, for having McDonalds pretty much everywhere. I really want a burger."

Arthur opened his door. "You like McDonalds?" he asked and got out of the car.

Al did the same. "It's not the best burger out there - personally I prefer places like Culver's or Texas Roadhouse - but it's decent for something cheap and fast. Why? You don't like it?" he asked.

Arthur shrugged and didn't answer. He wasn't about to admit he enjoyed those ice cream things, with the bits of Oreos mixed in or, depending on who made them, the fries.

After they had each ordered, retrieved their food from the counter, and found a place to sit, Arthur found that he was hungrier than he originally thought. He had forgotten to tell them to forget the mustard, so he sacrificed a french fry to scrape the stuff off. It was difficult to focus on eating, however, when the person he was eating with kept staring at him, mouth moving as he chewed.

"What is it?" Arthur asked. He didn't _feel_ like he had ketchup on his face.

"Just trying to figure it out," Al said, after he swallowed. Arthur expected him to continue, but Al just took another bite from his burger.

"Figure what out?" Arthur didn't know why, but his entire reserve of patience always seemed to empty around this guy. Here he was, elbows propped up on the table, blonde brushed away from his face like it was natural to sit like that, peering at Arthur through smudged glasses. Arthur just wanted to eat.

"Why you're even here," Al said and set his food down. Finally. "I mean, I was content on just driving off by myself-" he shrugged "-but then you just got in my car. I don't _really_ know you, I mean, I know you from class and from Frankie and all, but you seemed really concerned for some reason. And I dunno, I guess I'm just trying to figure it out."

From Frankie? What did _that_ mean? Arthur was about to ask, but Al continued.

"Anyways, enough talk about that. I wanna get going," he said. "Fill up our stomachs, fill up the car, and keep on going."

Arthur's stomach twisted in a funny way. Half of him felt the grease from the burger messing with him, the idea of continuing to drive off towards an unknown destination. The other half felt as if he looked _forward_ to the unknown, to the idea of driving off with almost a complete stranger.

He remembered something. "Do you happen to have your phone on you?" Arthur asked. Al would have his roommate's number.

Al sort of smiled, sort of winced. "No," he said. "That, uh, got left behind."

"_What?!_"

"Not like, on purpose or anything!" Al's words tumbled out, like he had been put in a corner he had been avoiding. "I just really wanted to get out, get going, go go go sort of thing and I, I sort of realized it when you first asked me to turn around."

Arthur leaned back in his chair and groaned, rubbing at his face with his hands. He stared at the ceiling. At least they both had their wallets. He wasn't sure what they'd have done without _those_.

"If you need to, uh, use a phone," Al said, "you could probably use the one at the gas station." He was looking out his window, into the dark. Arthur couldn't help but feel almost sorry for the guy - a feeling he immediately tried to wipe away. _He_ wasn't the one who decided to drive off into the great unknown, unprepared. Al's reflection glanced at him, caught his eye and held on to it for a moment. Arthur looked away.

After they had deposited the remains of their meal in the trash, Al drove them to the gas station, where he promptly began filling the car up as Arthur went into the store. According to the clerk, however, the payphones were just outside.

Arthur slid in the necessary coins and dragged the number out from memory. It wasn't as difficult as he thought it might be - Francis had scribbled the number on a page in his math textbook, tore the page out, and handed it to him with a smile that meant far more than Arthur would have ever wanted. The more times it rang, the more Arthur's panic rose. What if he got the number wrong? What would he do if Francis didn't answer?

"_Hello?_"

Oh thank fucking God.

"Hello, Francis, this is Arthur-"

"_Hold on one moment, dear_."

He glanced back at the car, where Alfred was leaning back against the car. "I don't have time for just a moment, I need to talk to you now. And don't call me dear," he hissed into the phone.

Francis muttered something in French and Arthur put his forehead against the wall of the building. "_What do you need? And why did you leave your phone here?_"

"Never mind that, I followed Al - Alfred - back to his room. I thought he was acting a little funny, so I followed him and now I'm stuck going lord knows where. With him."

"_You're going to have to slow down a little_. _You went somewhere with Al? Where?_"

"I told you, I don't know. Now just listen to me. Maybe I can convince him to go back. I don't know. But point is, I wasn't murdered or anything, alright? Just, uh, just in case the thought crosses anyone's mind or...whatever."

Francis chuckled. "_Okay, message received. Keep me updated, yes?_"

Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Hopefully this won't carry on for too much longer," he said. "But thank you for, for listening I guess. I'll talk to you later."

"_Have fun_."

Arthur hung up on Francis's laughter. The inner workings of his roommate's mind were as mysterious as Alfred's talk of sports.

"You finished then?"

Arthur jumped - Al shifted his weight backwards, balancing on his heels for a moment, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

"The car is all good," Al continued, nodding to the side.

Arthur gave a curt nod and followed him over. Had he heard all that? He hoped not. It wasn't like he had really said anything behind his back, nothing he hadn't said before. Guilt still crept up on him, though. It settled in his stomach.

Al opened his door and paused. "You know," he started. He licked his lips. "You know, if you wanna go back, you don't have to go with me. Mattie has a car, he can come get you. I can call him up for you."

The guilt was overwhelming. The way Al wasn't making eye contact, how he shifted his weight from one foot to the next, Arthur had the sudden desire to hug the other man, to punch him in the arm, _something_ that didn't make him so...so damn _sad_.

Arthur opened his door and slid into the passenger seat. "So where are we headed?" he asked, buckling up.

After some hesitation, Al followed suit. "I don't know, actually," he said. "I was thinking about heading south. What do you think?"

Arthur shrugged, ignoring the way all his blood felt like air, how he knew, deep down, he shouldn't do this. He should go back to school, attend class, turn in his homework. "This is my first time to America. You know it better than I."

Al grinned and drove out of the gas station.

* * *

The darkness was interesting. Occasionally they would come across a small town or a light or two from a faraway house, but mostly it was a blank, dark wall. Or maybe an ocean. It was like the road stretched out in front of them, behind them, and off to the sides was only ocean, forever calm and still. Like glass. Maybe that's what it was. Or maybe the ocean churned under the glass, so that everything was fine on the surface, but once you got a closer look, once you actually _saw_...

Al had turned the music down low, so that it mingled with the driving noises, of the engine and the tires. At one point Arthur had asked about a hotel, but Al had been vague and Arthur couldn't really remember the conversation. They had both crossed a point where the talking stopped and the music was at the front of their minds.

He couldn't remember how he had fallen asleep, only that he had nodded off a few times. But he had jolted back up, looked around with wide eyes every time. He had glanced at Al to see if he noticed, but either the other man really hadn't or he was just being polite, pretending the road was far more interesting than sudden movements made around him.

The first thing Arthur noticed upon waking was the dark; it couldn't have been that long ago that he had drifted off. The next was how the car wasn't moving. Arthur sat up, stretching as much as the car allowed him. A blanket was settled on his chest. The driver's seat was empty.

The first place he looked was the backseat, but he wasn't there either.

Arthur tried rubbing the heavy feeling from his eyes and yawned. His limbs ached from being in the same position for so long. He peered out into the darkness and that's when he found him.

Al was leaning back against the hood of the car, probably because it was warm, and staring up at the sky. Arthur leaned forward a little to see what it might have been; it had been cloudy that day, what could he possibly be looking at?

Stars.

Peeking between clouds, lighting up their edges, were thousands of stars. Planets too, probably, but Arthur wouldn't have been able to name any. There were more than Arthur had ever seen, other than the pictures he found on the internet, pictures taken from spacecrafts, for school projects.

Arthur didn't know what to make of Al. That he might have done this on purpose? To travel out so far, leaving behind the busy streets of cities, to see this? He pulled the blanket closer and turned to the side. Those thoughts could wait until later, for a time when his mind wasn't turning into puddles at the thought of a person he couldn't figure out.


End file.
